


You Look Like Nothing That You've Ever Seen Before (You Died)

by nic_takes_Ls (nic_L)



Series: mothycore's godswap au [1]
Category: DreamSMP, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: (not by Wilbur), (yea its Dream), Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Angst, Body Horror, Gen, Kinda, Manipulation, Not Canon Compliant, Post-Festival, This Wilbur is slightly more messed up than I usually write him but woo, Villain Wilbur Soot, Wilbur is dead, Wings, based off of Mothycore's godswap au animatics!!, god!dream, god!wilbur, godswap au, it's kinda vague, just a little and maybe not even, oh no, post-explosion, technically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:47:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27425179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nic_L/pseuds/nic_takes_Ls
Summary: The light is very bright. It burns into the back of Wilbur’s eyes and he winces, before his eyes flutter open and he sees where he is. He doesn’t know where he is. The floor is rather white.He pushes himself from his splayed position on the floor to his knees and looks up.Something flickers in Wilbur's peripheral vision; He whirls around and his bangs whip into his eyes.A- A being- A figure, silhouetted in the bright light as it steps forwards, flares two pairs of feathered wings behind it, wide and white as the void of a sky behind it.A green hooded garment, two pairs of wings behind the ears and a mask painted with a smile, clean and pristine. The mask is crowned with a halo of light, and blond hair spills over the edge.It tilts its head, and gives a small sigh, still alight in the air, wings gently beating."Ah.”
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Wilbur Soot
Series: mothycore's godswap au [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2003689
Comments: 10
Kudos: 143





	You Look Like Nothing That You've Ever Seen Before (You Died)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [WORLD SMILE | godswap dream smp animatic](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/710368) by mothycore. 



> SO!
> 
> This is based off of mothycore's godswap DreamSMP au animatics; WORLD SMILE and you died: (GO WATCH THEM THEY'RE SO RAD AND PRETTY) And also the song used in WORLD SMILE; 'I Just Wanna Make The Whole Earth Smile' by Girl Rituals. (thank you to mothycore for ALSO getting me into this band and breakcore now hahaha)
> 
> It's essentially where Wilbur dies after blowing up Manberg and god!Dream offers to swap roles with him! (and also George is the leader of the SMP at the beginning cause Dream isn't there)
> 
> I asked if I could write this and he said yes so- woo!
> 
> This!
> 
> They'll be uploading more stuff eventually for this au i think so yea

The light is very bright. It burns into the back of Wilbur’s eyes and he winces, before his eyes flutter open and he sees where he is. He doesn’t know where he is.  
  
The floor is rather white.

He pushes himself from his splayed position on the floor to his knees and looks up.  
  
It’s all rather white. The world is empty and sterile and clean. Though there is a sun in the sky, there is no horizon, because there is no end, it is all just white, colourless, glittering nothing. Wilbur’s breath is so very loud in his ears, the fabric moving when he shifts on his knees is heard. This place, where ever the hell it might be, is so quiet, but not the same stifling, overbearing silence of the ravine, of his bedroom, of the carved hole in the ground where he sings to a button.  
  
It’s just- empty.  
  
(When Wilbur thinks about the button room, something in the back of his head twinges and hisses, but he’s too busy listening to the quiet.)  
  
If he holds his breath he thinks he could probably hear his heart beat. His heart does _not_ , in fact, thud in his chest, and he does not hold his breath.  
  
Wilbur pushes himself into a standing position, and sees that the trench coat he’s wearing is actually rather clean, clean and new, judging by the shiny silver buttons and the even hemming, which was missing from before Wilbur got it. The leather is spotless where there used to be blood.  
  
Strange.

Something flickers in Wilbur's peripheral vision; He whirls around and his bangs whip into his eyes.

A- A being- A figure, silhouetted in the bright light as it steps forwards, flares two pairs of feathered wings behind it, wide and white as the void of a sky behind it.

It gives a small leap into the air and the wings swoop and thrust it into the air, and it comes closer and into Wilbur’s view.

A green hooded garment, two pairs of wings behind the ears and a mask painted with a smile, clean and pristine. The mask is crowned with a halo of light, and blond hair spills over the edge.

Wilbur is stuck, shock-still and ready to run, swing, duck, whatever this- thing- will throw at him. He’s learned to be on guard from everything. Everyone.

It tilts its head, and gives a small sigh, still alight in the air, wings gently beating.

“Ah.”

The voice is softly sympathetic, a slight musical tone and just noticeable echo.

Wilbur tilts his head up at the winged creature.

“Where am I?” His voice is almost same- ragged and worn from his outbursts and screaming in his sleep, singing in empty rooms for hours on end and with a hint of gravel scraping his throat from his new smoking habit. But it’s rather faint and feels elusive as he speaks.

The being- still unknown, grins, a slightly pointed smile, and answers in a lulling voice.

“You died.”

A small orb forms in the being’s hand, but Wilbur does not notice.

“Huh?”

There is a dull buzzing in his ears, and that sense of distant rattling shock in the back of his head makes a little more sense now.

The creature waves a hand and shakes its head a little.

“You don’t remember?”

Wilbur is still.

The winged figure closes its open hand. The creature’s smile drops and the next words are soft, nudging.

“The explosion?”

Wilbur knows his eyes go wide and his throat clenches painfully. A flash of memories- A crowd of questioning eyes, Schlatt’s eyebrows furrowed in surprise, Tommy’s plea to stop, wait, don’t- runs through his head and Wilbur blinks. He meets the dots pretending to be eyes and understands, a bit more now.

“Are you a god? Sky God?”

The being flutters its wings, startled, and chuckles softly. “A Sky God? Hmm. Call me Dream.” The god shrugs off the question and turns back to the subject at hand. “You did what you wanted. Right?”

At the last word, the god- Dream faces Wilbur head on, landing on the same sterile glittering colourless white -mask-

What Wilbur wanted?

He wanted- to be different, (be stronger, be less useless, be someone else) to choose, (his home, his fate, his own death by his own hands) he wanted-

He wanted to make the whole earth smile. His friends, before they turned their backs and ran their knives through Wilbur’s.  
  
The god steps closer and lifts the glowing orb in its hand to Wilbur.  
  
“Look.”  
  
He tears his eyes from the painted mask and in the pearly reflection of the orb, watches smoke curl over a vast landscape marred and gouged, rubble in heaps and fire dying out on corpses of trees.  
  
There is his own still body, the one he’d left abandoned and dusted with ashes. Blood paints his frozen face, tints his eyelashes.  
  
“Wilbur!”  
  
The voice is faint and tinny, and a boy with blond hair and a still-drying crimson scrape over his eye runs and halts, a deer in headlights, legs reduced to ice in horror.  
  
The boy with the green bandanna and brimming tears in his bottle-blue eyes stumbles forwards and drops to his knees beside the corpse with the blood painted face.  
  
“Wil, please.”  
  
Tommy reaches and strokes a trembling finger down Wilbur’s body’s neck and sobs at the lack of pulse.

“Everyone else is safe.” Dream’s silky voice shatters Wilbur’s unbroken gaze at his own limbs and he shifts his weight back.

“Everyone-”

“Schlatt,” The name is spoken with a confirming weight. Wilbur’s chest feels so empty. “-has more power now. He’s the only real leader left.”

Wilbur feels his eye twitch and slumps to his knees.

“Ah- He-”

Wilbur digs his chipped nails into his palms, forcing some semblance of feeling in him. He knows he’s smiling so wide. He tilts his neck to stare at the god above him.

“Of course. All for nothing. This is just awful.”

Dream, even with their face covered, seems hesitant, conflicted, fingers threatening to clench and legs ready to step forwards or back. They seem to come to a decision, facing away and looking at the ground, that glowing WHITE nothing.

“How would you feel- About a second chance?”

Wilbur’s chest gives a deep ache.

“You can do that?”

Dream steps closer to Wilbur, towering above with wings so tall, and grabs his hands. Peels his nails away from his own palms. Wilbur forgot he was doing that. There are very red marks still there.

“I- I think -sometimes- it hurts to feel so empty. You. You feel it too?”

Wilbur nods, gazing at his hands still held in the god’s gentle ones. Dream is so cryptic.

“I think I’d do something drastic to get the feeling inside. You have.”

Wilbur nods again, thinking of fire and cold and feeling as though if he were a bird everyone would tear the feathers off his back. The love he knew people held for him and still being so empty and hollow and crying out that the world was ~~damned~~.

He’s pulled to his feet by the god.

“I tried so hard- I did a lot- Do you believe me?”

The words stumble out of his mouth, disjointed and ragged. But he fought so hard for his land, his _friends,_ (TRAITORS AND LIARS AND MEN WITH KNIVES IN HIS BACK) against George and his side.

Dream nods, now, and smiles behind the mask.

“You fought so hard. And then you fought again, and again until you needed to fight fire with fire, right?”

“Yeah.” Wilbur’s voice is a whisper.

Dream drops Wilbur’s hands and their wings fold over Wilbur’s frame, a protective feathered bubble.

“I- I just wanted to be different, you know? And where _we_ are- what _we’ve_ been, just ground up and repurposed. Both of us.”

Wilbur doesn’t know what happened to Dream, but he nods shakily and short of breath.

Dream once again opens their hand and a different orb this time- glittering and luminescent with a darker center inside- floats above. A glowing sigil of an eye hovers over their mask.

“Do you want to try again? Wilbur?”

Wilbur pries his eyes off of the mask and to his feet.

“You- You don’t think I’m bad, or wrong, or-”

“Wilbur?”

Dream now holds two orbs, on with a perfect black center and the other pale and wispy. He offers the black one to Wilbur, who lets it float into his trembling hands.

“What is this?”

“A swap. You and me. Handshake?”

Dream smiles, and Wilbur is scared to see it and to ask what that means and to say no. Dream holds out his other hand for a shake, and Wilbur with a shuddering breath takes it, hands meeting, one so cold and other so warm and Wilbur’s spine spasming as if struck by lightning.

Wilbur’s eyes blur and he watches Dream reach for their mask, the wings on the side of their face suddenly fading off. Behind the mask is a freckled face, so human and normal, with deep green eyes.

But Wilbur’s spine and head ache so much, and it feels like clawed hands gripping and tearing, as if his back should be wet with blood.

It hurts.

It feels so good.

Like he’s a glowing new shape, something else underneath and so warm and not empty and-

There’s a sharp pain behind his ears, and Wilbur feels two pairs of wings grow from the side of his face. His shoulder blades split open and two more pairs of feathered limbs sprout heavy on his back.

Wilbur is still in shock and power and pain and Dream, now wingless and somehow the same, places the sterile _glittering_ ~~ _colourless_~~ ~~_WHITE_~~ mask onto his face and a fiery blaze above his head appears that he somehow knows is his halo.

“Well, that went better than expected.” Dream’s voice is now rougher, the echo and the silk gone from it. His hood still has slits where wings once peeked out from, and Wilbur feels how his wings have torn open his trench coat. They’re much more natural feeling to move than he’d expected.

The pair stand still, facing each other, respective orbs of- whatever in hand. Now Wilbur has the wings and the mask and the halo and they both smile. Wilbur smiles because he feels so different and so full and so new. Dream’s smile is less than that. It reminds him of Schlatt’s.

“What-”

Wilbur cuts himself off- it’s too hard to think and his voice is so alien now, like a faraway song, fainter and stronger and feels like a whisper in his own throat. His head blurs even further a feels like static.

Wilbur falls to his knees, wings splayed and halo casting light into the mask over his eyes.

Dream leaves, he thinks, footsteps still loud in the quiet, even with his head full with so much buzzing.

He hears Dream’s rough new voice call out one last time.

“You look like nothing that you’ve ever seen before.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, anybody else watch today's streams? 
> 
> haha
> 
> hahahhahaa
> 
> yeah
> 
> (remember this is mothycore's au and all credit is his for this radness aaa)


End file.
